Taken By the Wind
by StoryQuipster
Summary: [Gruvia in Avatar: Last Airbender Universe] Somewhere in the distance, he hears a butterfly flapping its wings.


**Taken By the Wind**

* * *

When he wakes up, the first thing he sees are her eyes.

They are blue, watered and painted with the ocean and the sky and the color of ice that is home. He blinks once, the edges of his vision blurred (but her eyes are clear, always clear, even when he looks back to remember), his muscles sore, as he tries to move his hand. He tells her something but the words come out of his mouth in a garbled, disjointed murmur.

She leans forward and her hand touches his forehead, her fingers brushing against the stray locks of his dark hair. Her breath fans out across his skin. "Sleep."

"Where's Lyon?" He finally gets the words out, alarm and panic breaking through the haze of his grogginess.

"Your brother is fine," she says as she pulls out a cup of something warm and steaming. She presses it against his lips and he spasms, as the piping hot liquid burns through the insides of his cheeks and the roof of his mouth. "Sleep."

Her voice is soft and quiet and she asks him in a tone that is somewhere in between a command and a request.

He leans into her touch and says, "Okay."

* * *

"Our hull is fractured!" Lyon screams as the smell of smoke invades his nostrils.

His knuckles whiten when he sees them—they are boarding their ship, their white, skull-like masks glinting against the dark. The air smells tart, yet sweet and it is warm, so warm that it feels as if someone has lit a match within his cheeks. Orders are barked but nobody hears them. Everyone is busy running or fighting or trying to dispel the fires that are consuming their ship.

One of them comes at him, fist full of fire. His hands move into hard thrusts as he bends the water from the ocean into a whip. The whip cracks against the firebender with a loud, loud sound and the man stumbles backwards.

He skids across the floor, his warrior's wolf tail flapping against the wind as he tries to make it to the helm. From the corner of his eyes, he sees five of their men subdued. Lyon is weak, clothes torn and singed, white hair matted with blood.

A firebender ambushes Lyon from behind.

"Lyon!" he yells as his brother crumples to the ground.

"Get up!" Frustration seeps through his voice. They cannot lose. Not in the ocean—not in their own element.

But his brother doesn't get up. He remains slumped against the ground, his head limp. He stares at Lyon for half a second before twisting his arms. Fifty foot walls of water surround their ship and the tips of the walls begin to crest. Foam laps against the deck.

"If you do it, you're going to capsize your ship and take not only us, but the rest of your men as well," a firebender speaks, his voice harsh against the wind.

"Get out of our ship," he says as the ship tilts to the side.

The firebender's lips suddenly curl into a smirk.

His eyes squint in confusion and he yells another threat and then—

Something hard hits him from the back of his head.

He slams against the floor.

The last thing he remembers is the sound of metal-like boots colliding against the wooden floor.

* * *

The first thing he asks her when he comes around is, "Where's Lyon?"

She smiles at him from the corner of her mouth as she dips the strips of cloth in a bowl of water mixed with herbs. He's in a building that's made completely out of ice—he sits up, momentarily distracted by how grand and how intricate the structure is. There are no buildings like this in the Southern Water Tribe; only huts and hastily-made igloos and flimsy tents. There's a table carved out of ice by the door and there are slits and windows by the walls for sunlight to filter in. The bed he's sitting on is made out of ice and layered with animal pelts.

Ice.

_Everywhere._

If Ur was here, she would weep from the sheer beauty of the structure.

"He's already up," she tells him.

He hears a loud groan and he angles his head to the right, where he sees the rows and rows of beds containing injured men.

_His men._

"I want to go see him," he says. He shifts in his place, his hands restless as they try to grope for his coat and jacket.

"Let me change your bandages first," she says.

It's his first time looking at her—_truly_ looking at her.

Her hair is the color of her eyes, adorned and pinned with feathers and beads and a butterfly pin. Her fingers are slender and her eyes are soft and her smile is kind. Her skin is like the snow—pale, white, porcelain—but her cheeks are tainted deep red, as if blood has been smeared all over it.

"Are you warm?" he asks her because it's the first thing that slips out of his mouth.

"N-No," she sputters as she looks down and averts her gaze.

"Are you sure?" he asks again. "Your cheeks are red."

"It's nothing," she says, her voice firmer this time. Her fingers clumsily move to untie the bandages on his chest, knocking the bowl of water to the ground.

He moves his hand, to waterbend the puddle on the floor back to the bowl, but she moves faster than him. Her hands are gentle in movement but they are sure. The puddle of water hovers above the ground for few minutes before streaming back into the bowl.

"You're a waterbender," he says.

She blinks at him in surprise, her eyelids fluttering. "Yes. T-That's what healers are. They waterbend."

Then, she flushes even more and he can feel his lips folding into a smile because he knows that she's embarrassed to have answered him in such a sarcastic manner.

He holds his hand out. "Gray of the Southern Water Tribe."

He didn't think it would be possible for her cheeks to flush even harder.

Her fingers are trembling when she grasps his hand. "Juvia. Northern Water Tribe."

* * *

From where he's standing, he can see the wall, ten feet tall, encircling a good portion of their tribe compound. The Water Tribe insignia hangs at the entrance while two men idly drink sake at the watch tower. From below are the warriors—the waterbenders are doing drills by the front while those who cannot bend are sharpening weapons and tools at the sides.

"Gray!" Lyon hisses. "We shouldn't be here."

"It's not like Ur's going to know," Gray shrugs as he moves forward.

"No, Ur will _definitely_ know. And besides, even if she won't, I still don't think that we should be here," Lyon says as he reluctantly trails after Gray.

Gray laughs, deep and mocking, as his hands twist to bend a snowball. He throws it at Lyon's face as he says, "You worry too much! Lighten up, you coward!"

Lyon scrubs the snow off his face as his lips crease into a snarl. He defensively protests, "I'm not a coward!"

Gray opens his mouth to respond but he is cut off by the weight of Lyon's body slamming against his. Before he can react any further, Lyon's fist collides with his side and he topples to the ground headfirst. He tries to get up but Lyon's fingers are fisted around his collar in a chokehold.

"Let me go!" Gray screeches, embarrassed at having been subdued so quickly.

"Take what you said back!" Lyon retorts.

"No way!"

"Then, I'm not letting you go!"

"Lyon, I swear if you won't—''

Lyon lets him go.

Gray frowns, surprised at how easily his adopted, big brother has released him this time. He presses his palms against the ground and makes a move to stand up when he sees it. Flakes of ash are falling from the sky, steadily coating the ground with black. The air is suddenly several degrees warmer and the smell of smoke and fire invade his nostrils.

The warriors break out into alarmed shouts.

The gong is sounded from across the watch tower.

"The Fire Nation is here!" Lyon shrieks, his voice shaky and afraid.

He blinks once, confused, shocked.

Lyon grabs him by the elbows and forces him to stand up. His fingers clench around Gray's sleeve as he starts to run. Gray stumbles after him in slow, steady steps, unable to process what is happening.

"Gray! Come on! We have to get back to our tent!" Lyon says as he desperately tugs on Gray's sleeve.

He finally gets his legs to function.

He tears his arm away from Lyon and breaks into a run. Lyon is right beside him, his breaths strained as two of them labor to get to the bottom of the slope. Despite the slamming cold, sweat is beading on Gray's forehead.

Lyon grabs Gray by the collar and pushes him up first, screaming at him to start climbing. Just as Gray is about to haul his right foot up into a tiny, stone crook, the ground shudders from beneath them. Gray falls backwards, his foot twisting from the impact. He gives a pained cry as he latches unto Lyon, who's looking at him with frantic eyes.

"What's wrong?" Lyon says as he tries to help Gray up.

"My foot...I think it's sprained!" Gray responds. His voice cracks and he knows that it's because he's afraid. They're only a few feet away from an invasion and his foot is sprained.

A loud, metallic squeal echoes from across the walls.

* * *

"You're awake!" Lyon says as he steps inside the building. His head is wrapped in bandages and there's a burn mark on his lower left chin but he looks clean and healthy with his new coat and boots.

Gray doesn't look at his brother. He continues to focus on tying the drawstring of his pants, his brows creased and his mouth set into a hard, thin line. Juvia is at the far corner, attending to another one of her patients, another one of _his_ and Lyon's men.

Gray doesn't miss the way Lyon looks at her or the way his lips pull into a soft, subtle smile when she meets his eyes.

"Juvia told me everything that had happened," he says, finally looking at Lyon. "How many?"

"They were unable to rescue seven. And they reported that three had died in the attack." Lyon's mouth is a grim slash. "That's leaves eight alive. But only two, excluding us, have gotten up and the other four are in critical condition."

Gray's fingers clench. "And the spear?"

"I'm sorry, Gray. We couldn't find it anywhere," Lyon says as he places a hand on his brother's shoulder. "It's gone. It's gone forever."

What he hears instead is: Ur is gone. Ur is gone forever.

* * *

A huge hull slices through the walls and ice, leaving clouds of dull steam in its wake. The warriors are yelling and moving into position, their arms and weapons held in defensive stances. Gray and Lyon stare at the hulking ship, frozen and unable to react. Silence suddenly sweeps over the entire area. Then, amidst the yells and curls of steam, about twenty Fire Nation soldiers emerge, clad in dull, red armor.

"Put your arm around my shoulders! Come on! Move it!" Lyon says after half a second.

Gray does so and tries to ignore the sounds of fire clashing against ice and water. The climb up the slope is slow and painstaking and they're about halfway up when Gray decides that it's pointless. They're either going to die or fall backwards again.

Something snags Lyon by the foot and it barely takes Gray a second to register that it's a fire-whip. The two of them are immediately pulled backwards, towards a soldier who has a net curled in his hands. _Deliora_. It's the same firebender who had killed his parents in the first raid. His veins suddenly ice over in fear and hatred. Gray crashes against the ground and watches in horror as Lyon struggles against the fire-whip, his hands shaky as he tries to waterbend.

This is it, Gray thinks. This is the end.

He shakily attempts to stand up. He has to help Lyon—it doesn't matter that he's injured. He has to at least try to rescue his brother. He can't lose another person to Deliora.

An ice spike suddenly whistles past his shoulder and barely scrapes by Deliora's arm.

He turns to look around and his heart soars all the way to his throat when he sees who it is.

"Ur!" Gray says, his voice cracking with relief.

She steps in front of him protectively before drawing a torrent of water from the ground and waterbending it towards Deliora. He slams backwards, momentarily losing his hold on Lyon. Lyon tumbles to the ground, unconscious, the hem of his right pant leg seared from the fire-whip.

Ur picks him up and hands him to Gray. She gives him a stern look as she says, "Take Lyon and run!"

"B-But...But what about you?" Gray whimpers as he tries to adjust Lyon's position.

Ur gives him a gentle smile. "I'll be fine. Now, I need you to listen to me. The firebenders are here to get as many waterbenders as they can. It's another raid. They won't stop until they succeed. I'm going to stay here to buy you some time. You have to take your brother and bring him back to the tent, okay? _Don't look back_."

"I'm not leaving you," Gray declares, his throat tightening.

"You will have to. I have to help the other warriors and waterbenders," she grimly says. She then takes the spear strapped to her back and holds it out for him. Gray's eyes widen in surprise—it is Ur's hunting spear, made out of whale's bone and strong hardwood. Gray reaches his right arm out and shakily takes it with trembling fingers. "Take this. I've taught you how to use it. I trust you remember your training?"

"Y-Yes," Gray sputters.

"Good. Because you might need to use it," Ur says.

"Ur, I...I—''

A violent stream of flames nearly hits the side of his face.

"_Go_!" Ur screams as she stands up and holds her hands out in a defensive position as several soldiers crowd her.

Despite the pain throbbing on his sprained ankle, Gray propels himself forward, with Lyon and the spear in his arms. He scrambles up the slope, his chest heaving in pain, as the bitter, cold air slams against his face. He finally gets to the top, his arms shaking from the weight of carrying Lyon, his face smeared with black from the falling ash.

He's about to move forward when he makes the mistake of looking back.

There's blood running down Ur's face and her hands are singed with burns. She's moving, moving so fast that all he sees are blurs, but what comes next is something that he can see as clear as day. She's in the middle of doing a waterbending move when a whip suddenly encircles her ankles. She stumbles to the ground as her entire body is encased with a net.

"_NO_!" Gray screams, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes.

"G-Gray..." Ur mumbles, weak. "G-Gray...go!"

He can feel himself growing numb. The soldiers look up, catching sight of him.

"_Go_!" Ur yells.

And then, he's running. Running and crying as he tries to tell himself that it will all be better, that Ur is a strong bender, and that she'll find a way to escape.

He knows that she's going to free herself and come back.

She's going to come back.

(She doesn't.)

* * *

"The food here is delicious," Lyon says as he chews on some seal jerky. They are seated in a table, with their men (who are already awake) and the healers who have attended to them. Juvia is sitting from across him, her chopsticks gingerly poking at her bowl of sea prune soup.

"It's a bit different from what we have at home," Gray comments.

"Everything's a bit different here," Lyon says. "Have you seen their architecture? It's beautiful."

"It is," Gray nods.

"The food would have been more delicious if you and Gray had accepted the Chief's invitation for dinner," Juvia says, speaking up for what seems like the first time. He and Lyon had spent their whole afternoon in the ward, conversing about their next plan of action. She had gone on with her duties in silence, despite Lyon's blatant desire to start a conversation with her, only responding in a reluctant, hesitant voice when directly asked. Throughout the entire duration, the red that tints her cheeks never left.

"Don't be ridiculous. Me and Gray want to eat with the people who had healed us," Lyon says as he shoves a sea prune into his mouth. The twitch in his left eye and the quirk in his mouth tells Gray that Lyon isn't being entirely honest.

"Actually..." Gray clears his throat and turns to face her. To his surprise, her cheeks redden even further. "I never got to thank you for helping me out. Lyon told me that I was in a very bad condition when the warriors rescued us from the Fire Nation ship and the other healers thought that it would be impossible for me to wake up."

"You're welcome," she says, her voice much firmer than it had been before.

"Of course, she'd be able to get you to wake up," Lyon says, his eyes reverent as he looks at her. "She's the best healer in the Northern Water Tribe."

"Ah...Juvia wouldn't say so..." she mumbles, clearly flustered.

"Well you brought me back, didn't you?" Gray says, his lips quirking into a small smile.

She meets his eyes and to Gray's surprise, the blush on her skin finally recedes. "That's just because Juvia was the only one not willing to give up on you."

* * *

He's in Chameleon Bay when he gets the news.

The Fire Nation is invading the Northern Water Tribe.

The bowl he's holding clatters against the ground.

* * *

He challenges her to a duel on his third visit to the ward.

He and Lyon have been going back there every other day to have their wounds treated and to acquire their daily dose of herbs and medicines. Every meeting plays out the same way—Lyon corrals Juvia into a corner and traps her in conversation while Gray gathers up their medicine and waits for his turn. Then, when Lyon is finally finished talking, Juvia starts healing the wound on his fractured ribs and makes small talk with him. Their conversations don't last as long as hers and Lyon's but he learns a little bit about her every time.

She loves the smell of saffron and she loves treating children the most and even though it's really cold, she takes two baths a day. She likes butterflies even though she's never seen one because they remind her of spring and the sun and she's only ever experienced long, winter nights and harsh, icy winds.

Sometimes, he wonders what she and Lyon talk about. It doesn't matter though because today, Lyon is off talking with the Chief of the tribe about what he, Gray and the rest of their men are planning to do next.

She doesn't respond to his challenge. He asks again.

She declines and he blinks at her, surprised that someone as spirited as her would refuse.

"Why not?" he asks her as she waterbends cool water into the wound on his spine. He winces as the water seeps through the torn tendons and muscles.

"Because...you're still injured," she giggles.

"I won't be soon enough," Gray says. "Come on. Just one fight. It's been a long time since I have sparred and it would be hilarious if I do it with you. Imagine, me sparring with my _healer_..."

"Juvia can't," she says and just like that, her smile disappears into a frown.

"Why not?"

"Juvia can't fight. She doesn't know how," she says.

"What? Why not?" He bites at his bottom lip as she bends the water deeper and deeper into the fractured tissues.

"Women are not taught combative training here in the Northern Water Tribe," she says, her voice laced with annoyance. "We are only taught how to heal."

"That's bullshit," Gray snaps, giving a pained gasp as Juvia bends the water out of his wound.

"Yes. It is."

"I always thought that there was something fucked-up about this place. No offense."

The smile is back on her face and he grins to himself, pleased at having restored her mood. "None taken."

"There aren't much waterbenders in the Southern Water Tribe anymore. In fact, I don't think there are any now that me and Lyon and the other men have left for war. But when I was a kid, there were a lot of women waterbenders who knew combative bending. In fact, my mother—our mentor, Ur, was one of them," he says, his throat tightening at the mention of Ur.

He touches her wrist and she pauses from wrapping the bandages on his chest. "Do you want me to teach you how?"

"It's forbidden."

"But that doesn't mean we can't do it."

Her smile widens and somehow, somewhere within him, his soul soars across his veins.

* * *

When he and Lyon get to the first port they see, he heads straight to the post office and asks the man in charge if letters can be sent to the Northern Water Tribe. The man laughs at him, calls him crazy, tells him that their messenger hawks and pigeons will never be able to survive the distance or the iced winds of the tundra.

He goes back to their ship, angry and frustrated.

He falls asleep and dreams of her, standing beneath the cliff where they used to practice waterbending together, waiting, waiting for a messenger hawk, a bird, _anything_ that carries his letters, his words.

His chest clenches when he realizes that she is waiting for nothing.

* * *

"Widen your stance," he tells her. They're practicing a good distance away from the city compound, beneath a rocky, ice formation that juts out from a cliff. They have managed to sneak past everyone else without suspicion after Juvia's last shift in the ward and Gray and Lyon's meeting with the Chief.

"My stance is already wide," Juvia says as she tightens the hood around her face.

"No, wider," Gray roars amidst the icy gales.

Juvia widens her stance as she flexes her fingers, stray locks of her hair billowing against the wind. "Is this right, Gray?"

He looks at her form contemplatively, his eyes focused, his mouth twisted into a critical line. Juvia shifts in her place, nervous.

Suddenly, he moves forward. His gloved fingers move across her arms as he carefully re-positions her stance. She stiffens and despite the cold, her cheeks are red and warm. His hands move from her arms to her waist, stopping at her stomach. She sputters something from under her breath and a dreamy, dazed look crosses her eyes.

She does that a lot—slip off into some foreign, pocket of her imagination.

He's not exactly sure what that means.

"Relax, okay? We're bending water, not earth," he says. "You don't have to be so stiff."

She exhales loudly, shuddering as he grasps her hip and gently twists it to the side. "Okay, master."

He laughs at the title.

* * *

Everything he does, every firebender he fights, every battle he wins is for her. He tells himself that he is doing this for her, so that she'll be safe, so that she'll be happy, so that she doesn't have to live with the cloud of war and despair hanging above her shoulder.

He tells himself this because he wants to convince himself that he did not make the wrong decision of choosing to go to war instead of staying with her.

He was born to be a warrior and every single emotion he feels—pain, fear, love—can only be channeled through fights and duels and battles.

He tells himself that war is what he was born to do, his destiny, his purpose.

Somewhere in the distance, he hears a butterfly flapping its wings.

* * *

"They won't join the war," Lyon says as he sharpens his machete. His old one, the one Ur had given him, is lost, gone and taken from him when the Fire Nation ship ambushed them. It's just one more piece of their mother that they have lost.

"What?"

"The Northern Water Tribe. I just came back from a meeting with the Chief and the other council members. They refused my offer to join forces with the Southern Water Tribe," Lyon says. His voice is calm but bitterness seeps through his inflections. "They sent three ships to the war effort, a long time ago, and none of them came back. They sent another ship recently but...we all know what happened to that ship...They don't want to take any more chances."

"So what? Are they going to stay here forever? Wait the war out until they get conquered?" Gray demands, his mouth twisting into a frown.

"It doesn't matter. We don't need them," Lyon says as he gives a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Anyways, at least they agreed to give us a ship back home. We'll be leaving after the Winter Solstice Festival."

Gray's frown deepens. "Why are we staying here for so long? You should've insisted that we leave right away. We still have to figure out where the rest of the ships are stationed so that we can catch up with the other warriors."

"It's good to foster ties with our sister tribe Gray," Lyon says as he puts the sharpening tool away. "There's a possibility that I'm going to be Chief of our tribe someday. It will be nice to have a little help. And besides, the Chief has already asked around his allies from the rest of the world to find where the rest of our ships are. When he does, he said that we can send word to them that we are safe and sound in the Northern Water Tribe."

"You do realize that they don't care about us, right? They weren't even planning to rescue us from that Fire Nation ship. They were looking for their comrades and we just happened to be there," Gray says.

Lyon grinds his machete against the icy, ground. "I want to rest Gray. We've been fighting for so long that..."

He trails off, his eyes suddenly locking unto something in the distance. Gray looks up and sees that it is Juvia, sitting on a boat, idly bending a ball of water. Her hair is different today—instead of her usual braids and hair loopies, her hair is down, tendrils sweeping across the sides of her face.

Lyon's gaze softens. "Even warriors are allowed to rest, Gray."

"If you say so," Gray mumbles.

"You and Juvia have been spending a lot of time together, lately. Where are you two always off to?" Lyon demands. Gray stiffens, taken aback by the sudden hostility in Lyon's demeanor.

"We're just talking. Normal people stuff," Gray mumbles.

If Lyon ever finds out, either he will join in or force them to end their lessons.

He doesn't want either to happen.

He rather enjoys being a teacher to Juvia.

* * *

When he wakes up, there's ash on his face and the smell of fire in his nose. He sits up and pushes past the burnt and tattered remains of their tent. The adjacent tents are burnt to a crisp and the igloos are nothing more but puddles.

His voice comes out in a choke. "Mom! Dad!"

Nobody answers him.

He stands up, legs shaky. He slips in the ice, the bitter, cold air slapping against his face. Tears start pressing from the back of his eyes.

"Mom! Dad!" His voice cracks like ice giving into the weight of stones.

A hand touches his shoulder and he looks up and sees _her_.

"I want my mommy," he sniffles.

Her hair is short, barely brushing past her chin and her smile is kind, pitying almost. From behind her pokes the head of a small, white-haired boy. She kneels down and wraps a scarf around him. "Everything's going to be okay."

"Where's my mommy?" he asks. "My daddy?"

She cups his cheek and gives him an answer to a question he didn't ask. "My name is Ur. This is Lyon. And if you want, I can teach you waterbending."

* * *

"Juvia feels very jealous of you," Juvia says as she sips on some soup. The icy winds have slowed to a halt today, leaving nothing but gentle breezes. She flicks a snowflake off her nose and watches as it careens away from her.

"Why would you be jealous of me? You're a master healer, the best in the North even, and you're practically the Chief's adopted daughter. You have a lot of things going for you," Gray says as he leans against the stone cliff. They are taking a break, having finished two sets. Juvia is a fast learner—she's quick, patient and her body is toned and athletic. What she lacks in size and strength, she more than makes up for in speed and grace.

"Juvia is merely the Chief's ward. He only takes care of Juvia because her father asked him to," she says, her voice tightening at the mention of her father. "Anyways, Juvia is jealous because you have seen so many places. She has only ever been in the Northern Water Tribe. She feels so ignorant."

"Trust me. It's ten times better here than out there," Gray says, his eyes dark and dull as he remembers the numerous battles they have fought. "We're going to leave after the Winter's Solstice Festival. If you want to see the world so much...you can come with us..."

He doesn't know why he sounds so hesitant.

Juvia's eyes widen. Her cheeks redden and a dazed look clouds her eyes. "Are you asking Juvia to elope with you?"

"W-What? _No_! It's not like that!" he hastily sputters.

Juvia sighs, deflated. "It's okay, though. Juvia would not be able to come, even if she wanted to. The Chief would never allow it. He's very protective of Juvia."

She looks down, her fingers twisting the fur-lined hem of her sleeve. Gray looks at her from the corner of his eye, not really saying anything. She has never told him the entire story of what happened to her parents, of why she is under the care of the Chief right now.

"The Fire Nation didn't kill Juvia's mother, if that's what you're wondering," Juvia says. He flushes, embarrassed. He suddenly realizes that he's staring at her. "She died of childbirth."

"And...and your father?" he tentatively asks, immediately hating himself afterwards. This is a sensitive topic and he just goes on and interrogates her without any sense of tact.

Juvia's smile is a mixture of sadness and acceptance. "Gone off to war."

"Did he ever come back?"

She answers him with silence.

* * *

When the time comes to say goodbye to Lyon, he feels a strange pull in his stomach. Lyon, his brother, his rival, his comrade, his commander is going to leave him, _them_, to return to the Southern Water Tribe. They have gone through a lot together—they have battled firebenders and escaped from prisons and fought for the love of the greatest healer in the world.

His brother is going to become a chief.

"Are you sure you don't want to go home, brother?" Lyon asks him.

Gray smiles. "No. I belong here, in the ocean, in the battlefield."

"I'm going to miss your sorry ass," Lyon says.

Gray doesn't say anything. Instead, he pulls his brother into hug.

This might be Gray's last time to ever see Lyon again.

He isn't going to take any chances and ruin their parting.

He's wasted far too many goodbyes.

* * *

He sees them, having a snowball fight one morning.

Juvia runs across the ground, snow spraying against her heels as Lyon sends a snowball towards her. She ducks and laughs when she misses and he gives a mock pout. He moves forward, another snowball curled in his hand. She suddenly moves her arms and a stream of water emerges from the snow and splashes against Lyon.

Juvia laughs.

Lyon calls her a cheater.

His stomach moils over and he can feel his brows pulling downward with an emotion he can't decipher.

He's been spending so much time with Juvia that he hasn't realized that Lyon spends a lot of time with her as well.

* * *

"It's over. The Fire Nation couldn't break through the Northern Water Tribe's walls!" Lyon says, bursting into Gray's room. He's breathless, from relief and happiness.

"What?" Gray says, looking up from the map he's been examining.

"The Fire Nation failed to invade our sister tribe," Lyon repeats, his lips tugging into a smile.

"Are there any casualties?" he asks and they both stiffen because he and Lyon know that what he is really asking is: _Is she okay_?

"Of course there are casualties. As with any battle," his brothers says after a long stretch of silence.

Lyon looks away.

* * *

He doesn't mean to spy on her.

He's just taking a stroll through the hunting grounds, unable to sleep, when he sees her. She's by the cliff, doing the new drill he has taught her. Her body sways in the moonlight, fluid, as water and ice whip and dance around her, perfectly in sync with her movements. She has taken off her heavy coat and her gloves and her shoes and she's bending in the ice in nothing but her sarashi and pants.

Her form is excellent and as he safely watches her from where he is standing, his thoughts are a cross between thinking that she is beautiful and that she's been hiding _so much_ under her coats and thinking of how proud he is to have been the teacher of someone who drinks from the power of the moon itself.

His skin shivers with gooseflesh and it isn't from the cold.

* * *

In the marketplaces, he buys trinkets and paperweights and butterflies—odds and ends he thinks that she would like. He keeps all of them, souvenirs of his travels from around the world, in a chest that's locked somewhere in his room.

He thinks that he's always, _always_ going to regret one thing in his life and that's how he said goodbye to her. He couldn't have said goodbye to her at all or he could've taken her in his arms and whisked her away to their ship.

If he had, he'd be buying presents with her right now, not collecting them for a person who might not want them anymore.

* * *

He tells her about Ur one day, the whole story, and he doesn't know if it's because he wants to or because he's afraid that he's losing her to his brother and chipping away a little piece of himself and giving it to her is the only way to keep her. She looks at him with sad, sad eyes and a drooping mouth and he looks away, feeling both annoyed and comforted at her pity.

"Do you believe, in your heart and soul, that Ur is still out there?" she asks him when he's done.

He looks at her and frowns, confused at her question. "Yes. Of course, I do."

He's surprised by the conviction in his voice.

"Then she's still alive. She's still out there," Juvia says.

"Yeah? You really think so?" There's hope in his voice and in his heart and he thinks to himself that nobody ever makes him feel that way but her.

"Juvia feels that way about her father," she says. "He's out there somewhere, fighting to come home. Juvia will never stop waiting for him."

* * *

His arms are shivering as ice wind flits past the gaps of their tent. His weapons and necessary supplies are laid out on the table. There's a boomerang, a machete, a faded map, a bag full of seal jerky and a flask of sake. He looks at them one more time before rolling all of them into his sack.

"What are you doing?" Lyon says, suddenly entering from the flap of their tent.

"None of your business," Gray gruffly says.

"Gray..." Lyon sighs. He removes his coat before sitting on a nearby chair. "You can't seriously be considering that stupid plan of yours—''

"It isn't stupid!" Gray angrily protests.

"You're planning to leave with the warriors and go on some ridiculous quest to the Fire Nation so that you can get Ur back," Lyon dryly says as he stretches his arms. "Please tell me how that is not stupid?"

"You don't understand," Gray mumbles as he slings the sack over his shoulder. He looks around before catching sight of the spear that's being carefully tucked away in the corner.

Lyon frowns. "She was my mother too, Gray. I know how you feel."

"No, you don't. You're not the reason why she's captured," Gray says as he takes the spear, Ur's spear, with an almost reverent demeanor.

"For the millionth time, nobody's blaming you for her capture," Lyon exasperatedly says.

"You sure as hell didn't feel that way when you found out," Gray pointedly says.

"I was young and immature and besides, you know how children are. They're always looking for someone to blame. It makes the pain easier to bear," Lyon calmly says. His brows suddenly pull downwards in a serious look as he places a hand on Gray's shoulder. "It's been ten years, Gray. It's time to let it go and move on."

"I can't," Gray says he jerks his shoulder away from Lyon. "I _won't_."

"You're so stupid," Lyon says as he shakes his head. "How do you even know if they'll let you come with them? You're _seventeen_."

"You know what, Lyon? If you're just here to shoot down all of my plans, then maybe you should just shut up," Gray snaps as he storms out of the tent.

Lyon stares at him in disbelief, unable to process Gray's determination to carry on with this mission. He stares at Gray in contemplation for a few minutes before giving a tired sigh and saying, "Okay. Just wait for a minute. I have to pack my things up."

"What?"

"I'm going with you on this silly quest."

"What?"

"You don't believe that I'd actually let you do this on your own?"

"Stop treating me like I'm a child."

"I'm not. I just want to make sure that you have back-up," Lyon says.

"But...but you're supposed to be in charge. The tribe—''

"Will be fine in my absence. I'll leave Pisces in charge," Lyon shrugs.

"He's sixteen."

"So?"

"And everyone in the tribe is okay with that?"

"No. But it's not like they can stop me."

"That's stupid. You can't just run away from your responsibilities," Gray snaps.

"My responsibilities are to my _family_," Lyon simply replies.

* * *

Juvia always gives him gifts, homemade coats and canisters of soups and packs of bread. She's always with him too. When he's out practicing waterbending, she sits by the side and watches him, knees drawn up to her chin, hands around her legs. She eats dinner with him and goes ice dodging with him and every time he comes back from hunting, she's there, waiting for him.

Sometimes he wonders what it can possibly mean. Her presence is so steady and sure and he's unfamiliar with it, because he's used to being on his own.

He asks Lyon about it once and the man bristles, his fingers curling around the handle of his machete. He turns to look at Gray, a feral scowl on his lips.

"You really have no clue, don't you?" Lyon snaps.

"Clue about what?"

"You're such a lucky bastard and you don't even know it," Lyon scowls as he kneels down and runs a hand through the fur of their hunting wolf.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know what Gray? If you don't even feel the same way about her, you should just back off," Lyon snaps as he turns away from his adopted brother. "Why don't you stop stringing her along and give other guys a chance, eh?"

* * *

He finally manages to send her a letter. The man can make no guarantee because the distance is far and the weather up in the North might be too much for the bird to handle. But it's worth a shot and at this point, he's willing to take whatever he can to close the space that's in between them.

He gets a letter right back, a month after and he laughs and yells and cries at the same time when his eyes first see her neat and tidy scrawl. The first thing she asks him, after Dear Gray, is: You haven't been unfaithful have you, Gray?

* * *

Lyon is hunched over in the corner of their room, his fingers curled around a carving knife. There's a look of pure concentration on his face—his brows are drawn, his mouth is set into a thin line, there's a wrinkle at the bridge of his nose. Gray moves closer to him as he tries to make out what Lyon is holding on his other hand.

"What are you doing?" Gray asks.

"None of your business," Lyon retorts as he shifts his position so that Gray can't see what he's holding.

But Gray has already seen it—it's a stone, smooth and round. Lyon is busily trying to carve a design on its surface. Even though they don't follow _that_ tradition in the Southern Water Tribe, he's been here in the North long enough to know exactly what Lyon is doing.

"Is that an engagement necklace?"

Lyon grunts.

"Who's it for?"

Lyon doesn't answer him.

He feels stupid for even asking when he already knows the answer.

* * *

One day, he wakes up and decides that the war is stupid and that him fighting isn't making much of a difference.

He calls all of his men together on a meeting and tells them that it's over and that he's leaving and going home. Those who wish to continue can stay on the ship but he isn't going to be their commander anymore.

He's surprised when everyone nods their head and readily agrees.

He knows that it's been a long time and that a lot of things have changed and she could have given up and decided to stop waiting and married someone else. But it doesn't matter. He feels light, the lightest he's felt in years—he's going home. (To her.)

He heads for the North the next day.

* * *

The Winter Solstice Festival is beautiful. The lamps that are strung along the main hall reflect against the ice, sending ripples of light across the main hall. There are sculptures made out of ice and flowers that bloom only in the winter and fountains that spring and dance against the cold. The Chief sits at the center of the long table placed in the front. His son, a boy of about twelve years old, sits on his right and on his left is Juvia. She looks different tonight—her back is ramrod straight, her expression reserved and impassive, her eyes kind but cold. She's wearing an elaborate coat lined with the softest looking fur and her hair is held back in a lavish hairstyle. She looks like royalty and she might as well be—she seems to be revered and respected by the people almost as much as the Chief and his son.

Gray is sitting next to Juvia while Lyon sits next to the Chief's son. The Chief insisted that they sit on the table, among the council, as a sign of goodwill to the Southern Water Tribe.

They sit through several hours worth of rituals and performances. When the time comes for them to start dancing, Juvia touches his wrist and says, her voice slow, nervous, "Do you want to dance?"

Gray blanches. "I don't dance."

"Oh," Juvia says, disappointment, etched in her features.

"And besides...isn't this a dance for couples?" he asks.

Her face reddens and her regal demeanor breaks. She looks down and runs her fingers on the table's edge. "Oh...well...Juvia just thought...never mind."

"I mean, if you want to," he sputters, suddenly realizing her intentions.

"No...it's okay. You're right. We should probably just wait it out. We...we aren't a couple anyways," she mumbles as she looks away.

He opens his mouth, ready to say something, when Lyon cuts him off, coming in from behind them. "Juvia?"

His brother looks nervous and he has one hand fisted within his pocket. "Do...do you want to dance?"

Juvia looks at him, almost as if she's asking permission and despite the feeling gnawing at the pit of his stomach, he nonchalantly shrugs. Lyon breaks out into a smile as Juvia takes his hand. They both step into the dance floor and as he watches the two of them dance, his chest tightens.

When the dance ends and Lyon pulls her aside, the necklace visible in his hands, Gray stands up and leaves.

* * *

Her letters stop coming, at around the time he hears that the Fire Nation is invading the North. The postmen tell him that sending letters there is difficult because the waterways and passes are guarded by rows and rows of Fire Nation ships.

When he receives the news that the Fire Nation has managed to damage part of the fifty-foot wall of ice, he goes to the nearest bar despite Lyon's protests, downs as many bottles of beer as he can and prays, for the first time in a long time, to Tui and La: Don't let them win. Please let her be okay. Don't let them win. Please let her be safe.

He doesn't know if the Spirits have heard him or not.

* * *

The crack of his water whip resounds across the air.

She staggers backwards as he sends arcs of water and ice towards her. She parries with precision, her eyes focused, her mouth set into a grim line.

"What's wrong with you?" she calmly asks him as he pulls from the ground, a column of water.

"What are you talking about?" he hisses as he freezes the column.

"You're angry with Juvia," she says as he starts bending discs of sharp, bladed ice towards her.

"We're sparring, Juvia. The entire of point of sparring is to fight," Gray snaps.

Juvia calmly blocks the spikes of ice that comes hurtling towards her. "It's something else. What did Juvia do wrong?"

"You accepted it," Gray says. The words come out of his mouth in a quiet, bitter voice.

"Accepted what?"

"You know what! Lyon's engagement necklace!" Walls of snow and water emerge from all around her. She swiftly makes a water whip that cuts through them.

"What was Juvia supposed to do, Gray?" she yells as she spins around in a wave of ice. He stumbles backwards as she moves forward, two blades of ice in her hands. "Juvia is just considering her options! Do you know that as a woman, Juvia doesn't have much power to make choices? At Juvia's age, she is already considered an old maid! After a couple more years, the Chief will get impatient and find another boy for Juvia to marry! So forgive her for actually considering the option of marrying someone who isn't a _complete stranger!_"

"And that's Lyon?" he snarls as he sends blobs of water towards her.

"Lyon is a good man—he's a warrior and he is set to become the next Chief of your tribe. The Chief thinks that he's a good match for Juvia—''

"So you told him? You told the fucking Chief?" Gray snaps.

"Lyon asked for his permission!" Juvia says as she parries the blow he sends her. "He's good to Juvia!"

"Well, so am I!" he roars as he slides towards her in a flurry of ice and water.

"And so what?" she yells back. "It's not as if you're doing anything about it. You like me—you like me but you're not man enough to do anything about it! What is Juvia supposed to do? Is she supposed to pine and wait for you until you catch up!?"

They go at each other, fists frozen, water and ice springing from their heels. Something akin to an explosion happens.

It ends with them, an arm's length apart, holding blades of ice to each other's throats.

Silence.

"But you haven't worn it yet," Gray says. He doesn't even care that he sounds desperate, hopeful, a man clutching on to whatever of a chance he has left.

Juvia's expression softens. "No...Juvia hasn't."

A loud cough cuts them off.

They both turn to look and find the Chief and Lyon and several other men looking at the two of them.

The Chief looks furious.

* * *

It's the little things that he misses the most.

The smell of herbs that cling onto her skin after a hard day's work in the ward. The feathers and the beads and the butterfly pins intertwined with her hair, the soft, blue gloves on her hands. The crease that appears in between her eyebrows when she's annoyed and the wrinkles that appear in her eyes whenever she's happy. The smell of saffron and her love of children and baths.

She has never truly left him.

* * *

"Please. Forgive my brother. Surely, he did not mean—''

"He has completely disrespected our traditions and culture. We have taken you and your brother and your men in and this is how your repay us?" the Chief thunders. Juvia hangs her head in shame while Gray looks back at him in defiance. Lyon is crouched on the ground, steady and firm, but Gray can see the fear in his eyes.

"This is ridiculous. I was just teaching her a few moves," Gray says. "And besides, you saw her. She's amazing! Better than most of your waterbenders—''

Lyon pinches him, thoroughly annoyed that he has spoken up. The Chief turns to look at him, anger palpable in his eyes. "Women are not allowed to learn combative training. It is the rules, set down to us by our forefathers. Lyon, how are we to forge a partnership with your tribe when your brother shows such blatant disrespect and disregard for our rules, our heritage, our teachings?"

"I can assure you that I will deal with my brother personally. But please, do not let the actions of one man from our tribe taint the partnership we have forged," Lyon says.

The Chief's face pinches into a look that's a cross in between anger and contemplation. Finally, he says, "Very well. But I demand that he apologize. And as for our alliance...the Council and I will have to re-think it. Such actions cannot be overlooked. You, of all people should know how insulting it is for your traditions to be blasphemed. I want you and all your men to leave by this week. As for you, Juvia..."

He turns to look at his ward. Juvia looks down, fingers clenched. "I don't want you associating your self with this hoodlum any longer. I am very disappointed in you. I thought that your father raised you better. If he were here to witness this right now, he would be absolutely crestfallen."

"No," Gray snarls, ignoring Lyon's pleads to shut up. Someone needs to stand up for her and if Lyon isn't going to do it, then he will. "If Juvia's father were here, he would proud of her."

Her lips twitch into a smile.

"_Enough_!" the Chief says. He glares at Gray. "I will have none of this conversation any longer. Now apologize so that we can get on with our lives."

Gray scowls but he apologizes anyway.

On his way out, Juvia takes his hand and slips her fingers in between his.

She gives him a grateful smile that makes him flush deep red.

* * *

When he steps outside his ship and into the wharf, he immediately heads to the ward and looks for her. His eyes sweep over the numerous healers moving back and forth, the injured lying on their beds. He cranes his neck trying to get a glimpse of her eyes—her eyes that are blue, watered and painted with the ocean and the sky and the color of ice that is home.

It's been a long time since he's been here. Many things have changed. The walls are stronger, more fortified after the invasion. He hears that the Chief's son is a man now, fourteen years old and the boy is already training with the other warriors. He hears that the partnership Lyon had worked so hard to forge with the Northern Water Tribe has crumbled but it is okay because the North is sending men out to the war effort.

He wonders how much she's changed and how much he's changed and how much their relationship has changed. He wonders if she's still wearing it or if she has put it away and worn someone else's.

He doesn't see her in the ward.

He goes to palace, thinking that she's there, because the Chief is her adopted father after all.

The Chief and his son look at him with an expression that makes his stomach moil.

When he asks them where she is, they hang their heads and answer him with silence and wet, glassy eyes.

He freezes, unable to move, unable to process anything.

The Chief's son moves forward to hand him the necklace, a pitying, remorseful look in his eyes.

* * *

On the day that he and Lyon are set to leave, he calls her name and pulls her aside. He fidgets in his place, his fingers tangling along with the ribbon. She looks at him with a questioning glance and he chokes, the words trapped in his throat.

Finally he pulls it out.

Her eyes widen and he swears that tears are pooling from the rims of her eyes.

"It's...it's kind of terrible. I had...I had meant to make a butterfly but...but it ended up looking like a penguin. I...er...I hope that's okay," he mumbles.

She blinks at the necklace in his hand, mouth wide, cheeks flushed.

"You don't have to wear it...if you don't want to," he sputters, sweat beading across his forehead. The hand holding the necklace trembles. "It's not an engagement necklace or anything. I mean...yeah it is...but if you don't want it to be, then that's fine. In these times of war, one can't just go making promises..."

"Juvia...Juvia doesn't mind keeping promises," she suddenly says.

His heart rattles against his ribcage.

He thickly swallows as he meets her eyes. "I know that I may be too late because I'm about to leave and it may not seem like it because I'm going to war and we...we weren't even dating...but...but...I love you. And I'll understand if you don't love me back anymore but I don't care. I don't care because I'll love you anyway."

"I love you. I love you and I'm sorry. I'm sorry because I should've said it sooner. I'm sorry that it took so long for me to catch up."

He thinks that even if her rejection will cut him, he'll still feel like he's soaring, because the words have never felt so right. He thinks that he may have loved her for even longer and he doesn't know why it's taken so long for him to realize it.

"I love you too," she replies, voice quivering. At that moment, every vein in his body feels as if it's been lit on fire.

"Are you...are you sure?" he chokes out.

"Y-Yes!" She's laughing now and he doesn't know if it's from relief or jubilation. She leans forward and presses her lips against his ear. He shivers. "If you don't mind, Gray, can you please help me put the necklace on?"

He makes a sound, and it takes all of his restraint not to gather her in his arms and wrap her into a hug. He can die from happiness, he's sure.

She holds her hair up as he ties the necklace around her neck.

"You sure about this?" Gray says. "I mean...I mean the Chief hates me..."

"He will understand once Juvia explains things to him," she gently says.

He shifts in his place. "But...But...I can't offer you the same things Lyon can. I don't have a birthright or a fancy palace. I'm not going to be the next Chief of our tribe or anything, I'm just an ordinary warrior. And I can't...I can't stay. I need to be out there. I need to fight in the war. But...but I can promise you that I'm sure about this. I'm sure about this. _I'm sure about us._"

"Juvia understands. Our country needs you right now. But this doesn't have to be the end. This can be the beginning," Juvia says and he laughs a little, because for all her high-strung, crazy quirks, she's always been the calmer and steadier one between the two of them.

"Yeah. Yeah, it won't be so bad. I'll visit and we can send letters to each other. I'll send a letter every month, every day if I can. Then..." He finishes tying the necklace up. "And then, when we win the war, when it's all over...we can be together. It's all going to work out and we can be together."

She smiles at him from the corner of her mouth. "This would have been nice several weeks ago."

Gray flushes. "Right. Sorry about that."

"It's okay, though. Everything's going to be okay in the end," she says and she looks so happy that he actually believes what she's saying. He's never felt as optimistic as this in his life.

Everything's going to be okay in the end.

She leans forward and presses her cold-chapped lips against his. He suddenly feels warm, so warm, that his toes curl and his mouth dries and he can feel steam rushing from the base of his neck.

Her fingers brush against the shell of his ear and he shivers when she presses her cheek against his.

"Come back to me," she whispers against his ear.

"I will."

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender, its universe and the other stuff that come with it. They belong to Michael DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko. Even though it's pretty obvious, I might as well put it here since I've made a disclaimer label: I don't own Fairy Tail either.

**Author's Note: **Okay, before I move on, I'd like to answer just a few questions people posed on my last fic (assuming that they've read this):

_To LadyEnigma: _Yes, I do have a plan to write another Gajeel/Juvia centered fic. Just haven't gotten around to writing it yet xD

_To Darkhope, heeeyleen and induratize: _Honestly, I don't have a plan for a sequel yet. We'll see.

Whew. Now that, that's over, I'd just like to ramble a bit more on why I wrote this story (I'm so lame, I'm sorry). This was originally meant to be a drabble (with me just writing the scene of Gray and Juvia's goodbye) but it ended up becoming a supremely long oneshot.

I've always wanted to do a Gruvia AU. Originally, I had meant to do a Pacific Rim fic, but I saw that it's already been done. I then, wanted to do a High School AU fic but I see that a lot of authors have already done it (but who knows? I might actually continue on with it, if you guys are up for yet _another_ Gruvia High School AU fic xD).

I settled on this one since I have wanted to write this fic for a long time. The first thing I thought of when I saw Juvia was: Water Tribe! And then I saw this picture made by caramadefranks (but I'm not really sure because I'm new in tumblr so I don't know if I'm actually crediting the real artist. Please correct me if I didn't huhuhuhu) and we both basically have the same headcanons. I just had to write this fic before moving on to my next one. I know that it's angsty-ish but I've been wanting to write an angsty fic for a long time.

I didn't list this as a crossover because from what I understand, a crossover is when a bunch of characters from two completely differently fandoms interact. What I basically did here is that I took Gray, Juvia, Lyon, Ur, etc., from the Fairy Tail fandom and transported them into the setting of Avatar. They didn't interact _at all _with the characters from Avatar and the characters from Avatar were not mentioned in the slightest. So, I'm not sure if my fic is just plain, ol' AU or a crossover. If I labeled it wrong, please tell me so I can fix it :)

Thank you to those who read, reviewed and added my other fics to their favorite lists! :)

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this! Please give me feedback if you have the time :)


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